Field Trip
by dogmeathasdied
Summary: We all do what we can in the fight against the Darkness. A short story featured in Vol. 1 of Written In Light, a Destiny fanzine.


**Field Trip**

Cayde-6 was not coming back. Master Rahool had suspected that as soon as the blasted Exo had slouched out the door. Now, staring down at his present company, he was certain of it.

Six children were crammed into his study, shuffling their feet, sniffing runny noses, and touching everything. The tiny room was hardly meant for one person, let alone a field trip of Foundry District primary schoolers. They stared at him with vulgar curiosity and bored insolence. He folded his hands on top of his expansive desk and struggled to remain calm, feeling as though the furniture was a fortress against a horde of fidgety Fallen.

A small girl in a blue scarf eyed him suspiciously.

"Are you a Guardian?" she asked.

"Ah, no."

The children shared disapproving glances.

"I am Master Rahool, the Master Cryptarch for the Tower and the City," he amended.

Blank stares.

"Do you have a ship?" A little Awoken boy asked, playing with a globe on the desk. Rahool edged his paperwork away. The child's hands were smeared with jam from their picnic lunches. They still carried their lunch pails with them.

"No, I do not."

"I have to go potty!" a large boy whined.

"Er…hold it, please." The only thing more terrifying than six children in his study was the thought of six children set loose in his Archives. "I'm certain Cayde will be back shortly." That was a blasted lie, and he knew it.

"What's on your head?" a pigtailed girl asked.

"It's a cowl. A symbol of my Order."

"Do you have hair?" A sniffly little boy asked.

"Do I – what?"

"My mommy says daddy doesn't have any hair because he wears hats all the time," Pigtail Girl said.

"Oh, well, I don't think –"

"What's this?" Jam Hands asked, holding up a wood carving that normally rested on a bookshelf.

"It's very delicate and rare. Do put it down."

"Why do you talk funny?" Sniffly Boy asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Same reason you do, shrimp!" Large Boy scoffed at his smaller classmate. "He's not from the City, just like how you're from the dum-dum provinces!"

A few snickers followed. Sniffly Boy's face flushed.

"Now, now," Rahool sighed. "Let's not be calling names." He turned to Sniffly Boy. "It's called an accent. I too was born rather far from the City."

"Are you going to accept my sister into the Cryptarchs? She's taking the entrance exams next month." A tall girl spoke up. She had a decidedly bossy look that minded him of a Primarch's disapproving stare.

"That depends on how she does."

"I want to be a Guardian!" Large Boy declared.

"Don't we all," Rahool sighed.

"I'm gonna be a Titan!" Large Boy boasted.

"Nuh uh!" Sniffly Boy jutted his chin out.

"Am too!"

"You can't!" Sniffly Boy cried. "You're just a kid!"

"Can too! I'll ask Commander Zavala right now!"

"No, you won't!"

"I want to be a Hunter!" Pigtail Girl cried.

"Warlocks are better." Bossy Girl sniffed.

"You guys can't be any of those!" Sniffly Boy stomped his foot. "Guardians aren't regular people! Don't you know anything?"

"Mister Rahool, can she be a Hunter?" Bossy Girl outright glared at the Cryptarch, daring him to contradict their wishes. Rahool put on what he hoped was a cheerful looking smile.

"I think it's just fine being a kid, don't you?"

"No! You can't do nothing!" Sniffly Boy sulked, kicking the leg of a nearby chair.

"Can't do _anything_ ," Rahool corrected him. "And who says?"

"The Fallen come and take your house," Sniffly Boy kicked the chair leg over and over. A stack of books perched upon the cushion wobbled. Rahool's heart sank, as much as at the boy's admission as at the other children's quiet, resigned agreement.

"I'm not afraid of Fallen!" Large Boy suddenly boasted. "My mom works for City Security and she says they're _stupid!"_

A storm of assertions followed, each seeking to outdo the one before.

"My dad is a Foundry worker!"

"My dad makes clothes!"

"My cousin fixes Frames!"

"My sister work on a train!"

"My mom makes houses have electricity!"

"My brother drives a crane!"

Sensing an opportunity to reign in the chaos, Rahool cleared his throat.

"All right, children. Tell me what you're going to be when you grow up – ah, besides a Guardian."

Six hands shot up.

He nodded at Scarf Girl. "Yes?"

"A veterinarian! I love horses!"

"Wonderful."

"A pilot!" Pigtail Girl cried.

"Excellent."

"City Security!" Large Boy said. "And a Titan," he added, dark eyes squinting a challenge.

"Of course."

"A writer," Bossy Girl said. "And a doctor, an architect, and a famous painter."

"My goodness."

"I'm gonna be a famous actor like Denish Alton!" Jam Hands said.

"I'm gonna be a Sparrow racer like Marcus Ren!" Sniffly Boy grinned.

"You can't even ride a bike!" Large Boy sneered.

"Can too!"

"Have any of you considered the Cryptarchy?" Rahool cut in.

Blank stares.

"What do they do?" Sniffly Boy asked.

"They're teachers," Jam Hands said.

"We do teach from time to time, yes," Rahool said. "We also do plenty of exciting research!"

A couple of the children sighed and glanced at the Archive hallways.

"We also help Guardians."

Six pairs of eyes fastened on him. Now he had their interest. So much for the Cryptarchy standing on its own merits.

"How?" Bossy Girl demanded.

"Well, Guardians often come to us with questions about technology, or with a rare engram to decrypt."

"Do you fight?" Large Boy frowned.

"No," Rahool chuckled. "That's a Guardian's business."

"Fighting is how I want to help," Large Boy said. "That's why I'm gonna be a Titan."

"We all help in whatever ways we can. Everyone's contribution is valid in the fight against the Darkness."

The children eyed him skeptically. Blessed Light, it felt like facing the Consensus during a budget appeal!

"Do you make Ghosts?" Pigtail Girl asked. "My Nana says Ghosts come from the Tower."

"Oh, I _love_ Ghosts!" Scarf Girl squealed. "They're _so_ cute!"

"The Traveler makes Ghosts," Rahool explained.

"Duh!" Large Boy rolled his eyes at Pigtail Girl.

"You didn't know that!" Sniffly Boy glowered.

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"That's quite enough, lads!" Rahool stared the boys down. Cayde was never, ever going to hear the end of this. The Tower could be falling and still he'd be sure to remind the Exo how much he did _not_ appreciate being made impromptu babysitter.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and his gaze fell upon the little jar of engram candies he kept on the corner of his desk.

"You've been visiting the Tower today," he said. "So you must know all about it by now. Who can tell me where the ships are kept?"

"The hangar?" Scarf Girl offered.

"Correct." Rahool reached into the jar and picked out one of the candies, tossing it to the surprised little girl. The other children stood up straighter, eyes flicking back and forth between her prize and the jar, until he tossed each of them a candy in turn.

"And who might I find in the North Tower Observatory, if I had a petition to make?"

"The Speaker!" Bossy Girl cried.

"Right you are."

She caught the candy, casting a triumphant smile at her excited peers as they caught their own rewards.

"Ask another question!" Large Boy demanded.

"Let's see…" Rahool made a show of thinking. "Who is in charge of the Crucible?"

"That's easy!" Large Boy thundered. "Lord Shaxx! He's the best!"

"Indeed." Rahool tossed out more candies.

And so it went. Each time one answered a question, the group received a reward. The children began to encourage each other, arguing about the correct answer until consensus was achieved. It was a pretty game, until the jar began to run low and Rahool began to be at a loss for new questions. He glanced at his desk clock. It had been half an hour since Cayde had said he'd "be right back". What would he do when the candies ran out? He was saved from that assuredly awful fate by the arrival of Ikora Rey. She had a subdued-looking Cayde in tow.

The children gaped at the Warlock Vanguard.

"Children," Ikora Rey called. "Would you like Cayde to show you the Tower gardens?"

Re-energized by their sugary snacks, the six jumped up and down in tremendous excitement. Cayde's shoulders slumped in resignation. Jam Hands gripped the Hunter's cloak, squeezing melted sugar firmly into the fibers.

"Goodbye, Mister Rahool!" the children chorused. He gave them each another candy on their way out.

Ikora watched Cayde lead the gaggle down the halls and out of sight.

"You handled that well," she said. "Thank you for watching them until Cayde could be found."

"It was no trouble," Rahool lied. "Perhaps now we'll have some future Cryptarchs."

Ikora raised a dubious eyebrow. "Perhaps."

She swept out of the study, leaving him alone at last.

Rahool sighed and unwrapped a candy for himself.


End file.
